"But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura
I V A R i'll use you as a makeshift gauge of how much to give and how much to take
It’s just before noon, and the first few inches of the sea are still just a little cool from the morning shower. Ivar floats belly up in the still water, his golden-eyes close tightly against the brightness of the sun. He is pleasantly full, has left a pretty crystal horn on the Isobell’s favorite beach as an apology, and intends to spend the rest of the day doing what he does every day: Very little.
Out of the corner of his eye, he watches a ray glide below him, its spotted back only visible against the sandy bottom because of its motion. He considers catching it, but as he languidly rolls over to do so, it catches sight of his shadow and races away. The kelpie is not especially disappointed. He is even less so when he sees where he has drifted. A rocky cove with a protected entrance, one he’s not explored before. He does not know the main island well, despite his years of residence in the island nation, and its no real surprise to find a new beach.
Curiously, the scent of horses is strong here, strong enough that they must surely call this their main residence. The scent of a mare – one of the Nereids, who all blur together – and some younglings. No stallion, which given the female rule of this place is to be expected. Expected, but still enjoyable, Ivar thinks as he drifts nearer the shore. He catches a whiff of one, only strong enough to be a visitor. Perhaps the Nereid is still entertaining for the autumn, he thinks. It is never too late to throw his hat into the ring. As elusive as the Nereids are, they make acceptably aquatic children far more often than the average woman, and Ivar can’t pass this one up.
@[Aquaria]
and i'll use you as a warning sign that if you talk enough sense then you'll lose your mind
04-28-2020, 05:14 PM (This post was last modified: 04-28-2020, 05:14 PM by Aquaria.)
aquaria
- THE TIDE IS HIGH, IT'S SINK OR SWIM -
Her face still burned with the recent memory of her brief interaction with the winged and antlered Warbird the night before. He'd been nothing but a gentleman and she-. Well. She hadn't been a lady, that was for sure. The baffled look on his face as she sank into the river kept flashing before her eyes, making her wince each time. Foolish girl.
All she wanted now was to check on her boys, find a nice sunny stretch of beach, and sleep off the ragged ends of a night away she'd sorely needed. That, however, didn't seem to be in the cards.
As soon as the golden white seamare walked into the sheltered palm grove that edged the family beach, she could feel that something was off. Neither Cormorant nor Halcyon seemed to be sleeping in. That wasn't unusual, she'd figured on tracking them down once she got here. No, it was a smell that caught her off guard. Deep sea brine, the heavy tang of fish that'd been sitting out in the sun too long. And beneath it all, or perhaps tying it all together, was the tell-tale musk of a nearby stallion.
Her teeth set hard in her jaw. One part of her, the sane part no doubt, urged her to walk back the way she'd come. To go quickly, but not quick enough to draw attention. To come back later, with a friend. A big friend. The overriding part of her brain pushed her forward though. This cove had been her family's safe haven for generations. She, her sister, her brother, had all been born here. Her children had been raised here. It was a fool who thought to invade a home like this one.
On stiff legs she prowled forward, eyes casting back and forth through the dense foliage before it gave way to the sandy shore of her private den. He wasn't hiding. Not even attempting to. Bold as a bull shark, a stallion stood thigh deep in the gently lapping waters of her tiny harbour. He was patterned in blue and gold and white all over, and beautiful enough to impress her. If only his reputation hadn't run before him.
"Ivar," she clipped, planted firmly on the sands of her beach. For all they'd never met, the kelpies of the northmost daughter island were mostly known to her. Ivar most of all. Her tail fretted the air fitfully as she eyed the waterbound stallion. For all his reputation, she knew her own strengths. "I don't remember inviting you into my home, kelpie." She stepped closer to the water's edge, out of reach. "That means you're trespassing." She spoke conversationally, almost pleasantly, but a sharp edge swam beneath the surface of her words. A riptide that was fed by lack of sleep and sheer annoyance. Whatever the kelpie was here for, it had better be good.
I V A R i'll use you as a makeshift gauge of how much to give and how much to take
The rustle of leaves in the jungle catch his eye, and Ivar continues forward in the shallow water. His long, elegantly finned tail changes to a match the pair of slim white forelegs that carry him to thigh-deep water. By the time he’s there, a pale woman has emerged into the beach. She is strikingly pretty, and without a doubt the nereid who lives here in this cove.
“Your home?” he repeats innocently. Ivar glances behind her, the edges of his scaled nostrils flaring as though taking in the place for the first time. “I didn’t mean to intrude. I must’ve fallen asleep and floated in by mistake.” His voice is genuine, his expression remorseful.
She know his name.
He should know better than to ask how that might be so.
Golden, slit-pupiled eyes narrow as he takes her in, standing so proudly in front of him on the beach. He’s fairly sure he’s not seen this nereid before. They do tend to blend together after a while, but no, he decides with another look at the distinctive seastars. No, she’s not a former lover.
And yet she knows his name.
“You have me at a disadvantage,” Ivar tells her. A smile curls up the toothsome edges of his smile. It shouldn’t be handsome, not with all those sharp edges, and yet it is. “You know my name, and yet I’ve not yours. I’m certain we’ve never met, and yet…” He trails off, and the soft swell of the surf pushes him closer to the shore.
“You’re not one of my children, are you? Your mother maybe forget to tell me about you?” Ivar is very clear; he will come for his children. Had this mare’s mother hidden her away, perhaps? She does look like the nereids that swim the Ischia Oceane, but is that because of blood or the effect of the saltwater?
His handsome face draws into a slight frown, one that does not mar his beauty.
and i'll use you as a warning sign that if you talk enough sense then you'll lose your mind
Her gaze remained skeptical, aloof. He spoke simply, as though his arrival was an honest mistake. The sway of his fanning tail fins moved languidly as the water pushed him closer. Every piece and part of him was smooth and seductive, from his voice to his expressions. None of it was real, of course.
Deception works best on those not anticipating it. Never con a con, as they say. And Aquaria, despite never having weaponized the ethereal beauty she'd been born with, recognized a master in the act. "Well then, I'm sure you can float right on back out," she chimed, smiling dangerously as she felt for the water beneath his heavy form. It would be a push, but she could help him on his way without too much trouble.
She'd all but gathered the waves to her bidding when he began speaking again, and made her hesitate. Rows of wickedly sharp teeth lined his smile, her belly squirming as though she'd swallowed an eel or two. "If it's all the same to you, I think I'll keep my advantage." She forced herself to keep her smile hitched firmly in place. It felt like a shield, that smile. A dazzling mask of carelessness to hide the calculations spinning behind her eyes.
The smile turned cruel at his suggestion, a short laugh of derision snorting from her delicate muzzle. "No, I'm afraid not. My mother has taste, you see." And then the smile grew truly amused. She was an idiot to bait him, no ifs, ands or buts about that. But she was very much not taking kindly to having her haven invaded, and if she could scratch his ego before sending him off, he might think twice before trying to do it again.
I V A R i'll use you as a makeshift gauge of how much to give and how much to take
“Ooh,” he says, hissing with exaggeration as though the words themselves had been pointed, and made contact with his tender flesh. “Last time someone burnt me that badly, it was a dragon.”
There is a thick patch of scarred flesh along his left shoulder all the way to his shoulder healed just like a burn wound would, but it’s very clearly an old wound. Has that been the last time someone tried to jab at him, verbally or no? Isobell sometimes talks back, and he’s a few women back on Kelpie who make a show of standing up to him, but they all cave in the end. There’s a thrill to finding someone new, someone who is so sure she will not be like the others.
He will let this one live after, Ivar decides. It will be nice to see her in the distance sometimes, to know she’ll remember both telling him to leave and asking him to stay.
“Could I persuade you to float right out with me?” the kelpie asks. His smile says that he knows he pushes too far. There is ever a whisper of caution in the back of his primitive mind, but he pushes it down. It’s not often that he refers to his nature, at least not to prey that is still justoutside of reach. There’s still a chance she might slip away, quick as a minnow.
“I have always wondered who would be the better swimmer – kelpie or nereid.” Ivar speaks casually, letting the surf rock him gently in the tepid cove. His handsome head tilts inquisitively as he continues. “I’ve assumed I would be, since I’ve heard your kind spends all their time preening in the shallows and waiting for someone to admire them.” At this he finally stops, his golden eyes meeting hers as though he waits for either conformation or a staunch denial.
and i'll use you as a warning sign that if you talk enough sense then you'll lose your mind
04-30-2020, 04:30 PM (This post was last modified: 04-30-2020, 04:30 PM by Aquaria.)
aquaria
- THE TIDE IS HIGH, IT'S SINK OR SWIM -
The victory of taking a verbal stab at the stallion was a short lived one. She'd been fortunate in life, all things considered. Still, one didn't live by the water long without learning respect, and she knew she was tempting the riptide the longer he found reasons to stay. Much longer, and it would be like prying barnacles from the rocks to get rid of him.
Even she knew better than to turn her back on a barracuda.
Aquaria smiled indulgently at his invitation, took one step, two closer to the water's edge. It licked very nearly to the edges of her hooves, ebbing and flowing to the same rhythm the painted stallion swayed among the waves. Her eyes danced in a way that said she was considering his offer, playing with the idea of joining him among the seafoam and salt water.
A bubbling laugh rippled across the surface of the sea, her smile pretty and unbothered in the dappled cove light. "It's a living," she shrugged, amethyst eyes blinking vacantly at him. "After all, what's not to admire?" One hoof landed in the lapping waters.
The cool wash of ocean over her coroner, bracing in its tangible strength. These waves were playful things, never harsh enough to harm their sheltered cove. A tendril of water curled up her hemlock, and she could feel it's eagerness to embrace her. Unlike the kelpie's charming invitation, this was one she willingly obliged.
The brightening of her smile from a careful mask into something far more genuine was the only warning before the ocean tightened its grip on the floating sea beast. Where it had swirled placid about him a second before, now the water tightened like a tuna net on an unwary school of fat fish. She let him sit there just long enough for the realization to shine in his eyes before she pushed with all her might and sent him spinning out of her harbor with all the grace of a tugboat caught in a hurricane.
"And stay out," she murmured to the shrinking figure, the tension draining from her in a sudden flood. It had taken a lot of effort to shove him the way she had, even with the ocean's willingness. Hopefully it would take him a few days to try again, else wise she wasn't sure she could pull the same trick again.
